


To Serve As King

by Welsper



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Come Inflation, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22352476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper
Summary: “My apologies,” he says quickly and Regis can hear the strain in his voice. He knows that strain, remembers it. Remembers Clarus’ body over over him, his hands on him, bolder, less restrained, his cock in him, back in those days when they were younger and life was easier.
Relationships: Clarus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	To Serve As King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VenatorNoctis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/gifts).



“Regis!”

Clarus sword cuts sharp through air and steel before the cyborg can reach Regis in his bed. Regis throws the sheets back and gets up as quickly as his broken body will allow him. So now, Clarus is faster than Regis can summon his Armiger and a sole twitching hand lands before him on the floor. Perhaps they will never fight side by side again, the way Regis is now. The creature stumbles and contorts and a cold shudder runs down Regis’ back. It pains him that he can do naught but keep the Wall these days while these things cover the continent in the name of the Empire. It is odd to see this thing – it almost compels him to say a prayer for this creature, although it is nothing more than steel and wire.

“Are you alright?” Clarus asks and steps forward, one hand reached out before he stops himself. Regis makes that choice and puts a hand on Clarus’ shoulder, squeezing it for but a moment before drawing back.

“You came just in time, as always,” Regis says with a smile.

“We must tighten the trade routes,” Clarus says, his brows deeply furrowed as he eyes the twitching mass. “Someone must have smuggled it in. With the extra personnel coming in for the ball… My apologies for letting it get so far,” he says and bows.

“A small bit of excitement never – watch out!” The magitek form gives own last jerk and Clarus drives his sword into it. Finally, it lies still. Blood drips from Clarus hand and as Regis reaches out, Clarus takes a step back and shakes his head mutely.

“Clarus?” He thinks him poisoned for a moment, dazed before he catches what passes over Clarus’ face.

“They will stop at nothing,” Clarus hisses. Regis can see his knuckles turn white from how tightly he is clenching his fist. He reaches out and touches the hand gently. It feels hot, scorching to his touch before Clarus rips his hand away as if stung.

“My apologies,” he says quickly and Regis can hear the strain in his voice. He knows that strain, remembers it. Remembers Clarus’ body over over him, his hands on him, bolder, less restrained, his cock in him, back in those days when they were younger and life was easier.

“Think nothing of it,” Regis says and takes Clarus’ hand again. He holds it tightly this time. Clarus shakes beneath his touch and Regis gently strokes the scorching skin with his thumb.

“They must have meant for me to create a scandal at the ball,” Regis says. “How unlucky for you old men go to bed early,” he adds, looking at the still mass of machinery and steel heaped on the floor. “But the two of us have done much worse than this, haven’t we?”

“Regis,” Clarus _moans_ this time and Regis smiles. He steps backwards, pulling Clarus with him who he knows tries to resist but Regis doesn’t mind him failing. With a wince at his knee hitting the bed, he lets himself drop backwards and Clarus bears down on him. His hands still remember how to undo his robes, even now and when they fall to the floor Regis can feel Clarus’ stiff cock press against his through their pants.

“Please… I cannot...”

“Then do not,” Regis says softly and pulls Clarus down with a hand on his nape. The kiss is hot and desperate and wanting and Regis moans into it as Clarus plunders his mouth with his tongue. His shield draws back with a gasp and Regis can feel his own cock throb at the look of sheer desire in his eyes. He feels Clarus’ hands ripping at his bed clothes, rough and desperate and Regis makes no attempt to stop him. His life he would feed to the Wall since that was his duty, and his body he would give to Clarus since that was his desire. If it eased the suffering, Regis would gladly do it.

He shudders as he sees Clarus spit into his hand and he moans as thick fingers work themselves into him. Clarus’ lips are all over his face, his neck, biting and sucking and Regis lifts his hips as well as they are still able towards his hand. He gasps, half in pleasure and half in pain at the sudden movement as Clarus turns him around. Regis catches his eyes for a moment and the feral hunger in them makes him groan and his cock harden. His cockhead is hard and heavy and wet against Regis’ hole and there is only a short moment where he can brace himself before it presses in. A gasp escapes him as the thick cock slides into him. It trails off into a moan with every further inch filling him. Clarus’ cock is every bit as large and mercilessly spearing him open as he remembers it.

He stifles a cry as Clarus forces him back onto his cock until their hips are flush against each other’s. Regis’ fingers tighten in the bedsheets and he muffles his moans against the fabric as Clarus draws back only slightly to push back in deep again. He is thankful for the iron grip Clarus has on his hips as he rocks into him, because he could not hold himself upright. His arms tremble as he leans on them. Even as he braces himself for Clarus’ deep thrusts, he cannot help but be shoved forwards, the silken, smooth bedsheets beneath them bunching up with every forceful movement.

Clarus bears down on him and Regis arches back, into that heat, into that weight and Clarus moans into his ear. Regis finds he has quite missed those sounds. Perhaps he should hold more balls, for someone with an odd sense of humor and a lapse of taste and honor in the Empire to be sending such gifts.

Every harsh thrust sends jolts through him and whenever he can, he pushes his hips back, although it makes his old and wary bones ache. It is a welcome ache though, a searing and relentless sensation much different from the weariness maintaining the magic makes him feel.

It makes him feel alive.

Clarus shudders still behind him and Regis gasps out when he feels his seed fill him to the brim.

It is too much for him to hold and Regis moans when he feels it trickle down his legs when Clarus draws back, staining his thighs and the sheets. He gasps out when Clarus pushes back in, still hard and he is so _full_.

“Ah, curse your stamina,” Regis laughs quietly, breathlessly. His entire body trembles now and Clarus is relentless. The way his thick cocks rubs over his prostate, heavy and hard and merciless makes Regis cock twitch. His chest lays on the bed now for he cannot keep himself upright any more. He moans as he feels Clarus’ callused hand on his cock, squeezing him tight. He strokes his cock in time with his hard thrusts driving deep and Regis can do nothing but beg. For more, for Clarus to take what he wants, what he has to take because Regis is king and a king serves those in need.

Because Clarus is his friend and he loves him.

Clarus comes again, deep within him and Regis gasps.

His presses a hand on his stomach and can feel a bump there from Clarus filling him up like that. It is what pushes him over the edge, spilling over the crumpled sheets beneath them.

They fall together onto the bed, panting and heaving and utterly spent. Clarus rolls over and Regis breathes deeply as he is free of that weight. Neither of them says anything for a while. If they were younger, perhaps Regis would have reached for him again now, but he can hardly feel his own legs. Everything aches and he wonders if his cane will be enough to help him walk in the morning.

It is fine. Clarus had borne worse pain for him. Would again, if he needed to. This is the least Regis can do for him.

“I am sorry,” Clarus says as he finds his breath again and Regis smiles.

“I am not. I could never be sorry for helping a friend in need.”

Clarus looks at him for a moment and then returns the smile, in that tight-lipped way of his. Regis reaches out and traces the feathers on the man’s damp skin. He remembers how proud Clarus had been the day he had gotten his tattoo, how tall he stood.

The only one prouder that day had been Regis.

There was no one he would have rather had as his shield, back then and now.

Clarus catches his hand and kisses his knuckles and the look he gives Regis makes his heart skip a beat as if he were a man thirty-five years younger and blooming with first love.

Clarus always had a way of making him feel like that.

“Stay the night?” He asks then and Clarus kisses his hand again.

“Gladly.”


End file.
